


Can I Help You?

by NotNatural



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester/ Reader - Freeform, F/M, Sam Winchester/Reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-21
Updated: 2021-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-28 09:08:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30137247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotNatural/pseuds/NotNatural
Summary: Two men are hurt and in your home. What else can you do but save their asses.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! I dreamt this one up the other day and thought it deserved to be there for others. Let me know if you want another chapter!

You are startled awake. Did the front door just shut? You ask yourself while sliding out of bed. Your feet hit the cold hardwood and you try not to gasp. As softly as you can you pad to your bedroom door. Someone is on the other side. You crack open the door just an inch and your mouth drops open to what you see.

"Come on Sammy, we'll be all right." The man's not facing you, but from his voice you can tell he is hurt. He's got someone else in tow.

"Mmm" is all you hear coming from the other person.

You weigh your options. 1. Call the police. I mean your phone is right there. Or 2. Confront the intruders in your pj shorts and tank top. Smoothing down your hair, you take a deep breath and open the door of your room all the way. With as much courage as you can muster you call out,

"Who are you and-and what are you doing in my house?" Wow, nailed it, you thought to yourself. Your voice betrayed your fear.

A head whips around to you, "Oh shit, um it's not what it looks like. We aren't here to hurt you or take anything," the man says with a weird air of calm.

"Then, what are you doing?" You ask while taking a small step forward. You notice your front door is still open.

Without thinking you rush to close it, oh wow, you think to yourself, I'm really in it now. You slowly turn to face the man, well two men you are able to see now, who entered your home unannounced.

“Well we uh, we’re hurt pretty bad and needed somewhere to lay low. Your place was the closet I could drive to,” The man clutches his side. Your brows draw up in confusion.

Just as you were about to say something the man drops the other onto the floor. He hits the ground hard and doesn’t even utter a word.

“Uh is he okay?” You ask with wide eyes. The only answer you get is a shrug.

“We got hurt um, hunting and Sammy here took most of the blows,” He sits down on the pink chair to his left. You hope he doesn’t stain it with anything weird.

“Hunting?” You ask again, weighing your options. Do you help or do you freak?

“I’m Dean by the way,” the mystery man finally speaks again. You make eye contact and blush, for the first time you notice how handsome he is. Something around his neck gleams in the moonlight. You shake your head.

“I’ve got a kit, one second,” you rush to the closet, opening it and pulling out a large first aid kit from the bottom shelf. Your dad always wanted you to have everything you may need in an emergency. You send a quick, silent thanks and turn back to the man.

You approach Dean but he shakes his head, “Sammy first.”

You leave it at that and turn to the tall man laying on the floor. You can tell he is extremely tall because both his head and feet are on opposite sides of your large coffee table.

You set your bag down and begin to examine him, “Um hi Sammy, I’m y/n, I’m just going to check you out, okay?” You didn’t get an answer, not that you were expecting one anyway.

Starting with his head you feel for any bumps, nothing. That’s a good sign, right? You brush his bangs from his face, there is a small gash on his forehead, but you have a feeling there is worse to come. You trail your gaze down, nothing bad jumps out at you but that doesn’t mean he’s okay. With a shaky breath you trail your hands down his chest, earning a wince. Okay, you think, bruised chest and possibly ribs. There’s nothing you can do about that. You pat down his arms, nothing there either.

You go to stand up but your knee slips in something, something warm and red. You suppress a gag. His right leg. Looking up to Dean you see he has passed out, or maybe just resting his eyes. You look back on Sammy and he’s also out.

You blush red at what you’re about to do. First thing first, you remove his boots. Then you struggle to sit by his side without touching the pool of blood, lifting the bottom of his plaid shirt you reach for his belt buckle.

“Am I really about to take this man’s pants off?" Your question falls on deaf ears.

Clearing your throat, you undo his belt buckle, thinking to yourself, please have boxers on, please.

You then unzip the fly of his jeans and undo the button. No going back now. Carefully you slide the jeans off his waist, they get stuck on his thigh, so you tug gently and hear a sickening rip. Like someone pulled off a band aid, but it’s huge and soaked in blood. His leg starts to leak. You wince at the sight of a large, deep gash on the inner of his right thigh. You quickly rip his pants down to his ankles. There’s no more time for being timid. You unzip your kit and put on a pair of gloves, then you start ripping open gauze packages and pressing them to the wound.

“I’m going to have to stitch this up,” again your words gain no reply.

You huff out a breath of air. Pressing pressure onto the wound you leave the gauze pad to stick while you open a disinfecting solution and your suture kit. You lay your tools out on his left side and think, if he wakes up this is going to get messy. You put on the headlamp and a mask from your kit. Straddling his waist when you realize he needs to be held down. Ignoring the feeling of his rigid muscled body under your shorts you lean down to this right inner thigh to take a better look. You pray neither of them wakes up to see you in this position.

You peel back the now saturated gauze and poor the solution on the gash. You sit up to gather your suture kit and then get to work.

Your hands remain calm and still, even though the rest of you feels like throwing up and your heart is beating a million miles a minute. Your work is quick, clean, and honestly beautiful. Just two more stiches and -

You hear a loud groan from behind you, uh oh.

“What the hell! Get off of me!” Sammy grabs your hips and tries to pull you off. You clamp your thighs tightly around his hips and shriek.

“Sammy! Stop! I’m stitching up your leg, if you rip me off you then you rip your leg back open!” You gasp trying to catch your breath and not get ripped away from your work.

“I’m almost done, please just don’t” You don’t get a reply, but his hands remain on you.

“Don’t call me Sammy,” He grunts out as you do another stitch.

“S-sorry that’s just what Dean called you and I-I didn’t know anything else he just passed out on the chair,” You hold your breath as you finish the last stitch. You wipe the length of the gash again with the solution and feel the man under you take a breath.

“Sorry,” You mutter before sitting up to grab some more gauze and tape. “I’ll be finished in a second.”

“Sam,” Is the response you get. It takes you until you finish covering up the wound to register what he means. Sam, not Sammy. You smile under your mask, must be a childhood nickname or something.

“Okay, Sam, I’m going to get off of you now,” You take off your bloody gloves, then mask and headlamp as you crawl with zero grace off Sam’s waist.

“Where are my pants?” You blush from your cheeks down at his question.

“They are by your ankles, I promise I didn't see anything.” You turn your attention to Dean. He looks peaceful, you think to yourself before kneeling in between his legs and doing a quick once over from his feet to his head.

“I think Dean is okay, just some bad bruising on his side, and he must have been punched really hard in the cheek,” you notice a dark spot blooming on his right cheek. You go to your kit and grab a cooling gel. With soft hands you spread the gel onto your fingers and then onto his cheek to help the discomfort when he wakes up.

“Thanks for helping us,” Sam winces as he gets up onto his hands into a sitting position.

“Don’t move, you’ll have to stay down for a while.” You grab a pillow from the couch and help guide his head back to the floor.

“I didn’t really have a choice," you continue. "I mean it was either help or leave you to die on my living room floor.” You shrug and grab some more solution from your kit, swiping it over his forehead cut with a soft pressure. Pushing his sweaty bangs back from his forehead once again. You look into his eyes, holy shit, this one’s cute too.

Blushing you remove your hands from around his face and stand up.

“I um I don’t know what to say, I mean Dean said you guys got hurt while hunting. Last time I checked deer don’t live around here, and they certainly don’t have claws.” You bend down to start cleaning up your mess.

“I’m also sorry I had to um sit on you like that, I didn’t know what else to do because Dean passed out and couldn’t hold you down.” You ramble.

“It’s fine, I understand,” Sam winced as he moved his leg.

Going into the kitchen you grab some water and a pain pill. You bring it back to Sam and he accepts with a small smile. His eyes trail over your figure.

Suddenly you become aware of your lack of clothing again and blush. Pushing the strap of your tank top back up.

“I’m going to put something else on” Sam nods in acknowledgement. Laying back down and closing his eyes. Your heart clenches at how much pain he must still be in.

Rushing back to your room you throw on the closest hoodie. Then you remember the pool of blood you still have to clean up. Reentering the living room you notice the chair is now empty.

“Dean?” You call out, no reply.

“Hey, Sam, where did Dean -” You’re cut off by a figure rushing at you, you back up in response and hit the wall behind you. You whimper.

“Who are you,” Dean growls.

“What do you mean?” You squirm under both his grip and gaze. His hands are hot against your wrists which he pinned over your head.

“I mean, no little thing like you knows how to stitch up that well and that quick. So I’m going to ask again. Who the hell are you?” Tears build up in your eyes. You squirm and he puts a leg between yours, pressing into you.

“Y/n!” You answer, “I just know some things about emergency’s, I don’t understand why you’re asking me this, you’re hurting me please let go.” You beg. Suddenly your arms are dropped and you sink to the floor, crying. You should have called the cops.

“Shit I’m sorry I just- I just wanted to make sure me and Sammy were safe and that you weren’t some crazy organ harvester in your spare time." He squats down in front of you. "Thanks for saving our bacon," he brushes a thumb over your cheek to swipe your tears away.

"Its okay, I mean its not. You are terrifying, but I get it I guess." You answer, looking him straight in the eyes. Dean nods and stands up.

You scramble to get up and back away from Dean. You turn and go back to Sam, there's still a mess to clean up. You go to the kitchen and grab some supplies. Then going back to the spot of blood you start to wipe it up, then you scrub until the stain lifts. Sam watches your every move. When you're finished you towel up the water and put your supplies away.

"You guys can stay the night if you need," you look from Sam to Dean. They both smile in return.

"Dean, can you help me get Sam on the couch?" Dean makes his way over to you two and he picks Sam up like a rag doll and plops him down on your couch.

You follow behind, propping a pillow behind Sam's head and then draping a blanket over him legs. You put his glass of water on the coffee table.

"Okay, do you guys need anything else?" Sam shakes his head no.

"Thanks though y/n," his eyes meet yours, you blush again.

"Can I use your shower?" Dean asks.

"Yeah, follow me." You lead him through your room into the bathroom, "you can use this towel on the rack and whatever you want in there. May smell a little girly though," you smile at Dean.

The smile he gives you in return makes you forget his outburst at you from earlier, "I can pull it off," he retorts. You giggle and leave the room.

You go to sit down on your bed and try to take it all in without panicking. You take deep breaths, holding for five seconds before releasing them. Your hands sweep up and down your thighs. You blink and think you see blood covering your hands, you gasp. When you blink again it's gone, you're fine. "I need to relax," you whisper to yourself.

"Hey, are you okay?" Dean comes into your room in just a towel.

"Uh, yeah I think so," you reply averting your eyes, "actually no, I think I'm panicking." Tears well up in your eyes.

In an instant Dean is standing in front of you, "hey hey it's all good, everything is okay."

He stands you up and you don't fight him. Instead you are trying not to dry heave. 

"Let's just breathe, in and out," Dean lifts your chin up to make you look at his face. Your lower lip trembles, "I c-can't."

"Plan B it is," Dean brings you in for a crushing hug. Your cheek is flush against his toned chest, you don't respond. The pressure allows you to relax and you go limp, breathing in the smell of your shampoo. He was right, you think, he does pull it off.

"T-thanks," you mumble into his chest, not wanting to let you yet, you wrap your arms around Dean and close your eyes.

In seconds you're asleep.


	2. Good Morning Sunshine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I noticed that last chapter I started a lot of sentences with "you" so this time I am going to try not to! Lol! Anyway, here's another chapter, it picks right back up where we left off. Enjoy!

Slowly waking up you can feel that there is someone else in your bed with you. Blinking, you let your eyes adjust to the light streaming in your room through the curtains. You turn your head left and right to get the cricks out of your neck and you realize that Dean is sprawled out on your sheets. His hair is sticking up in all directions and you can't help but stare at his toned back. Your sheet covers below his back but one of his legs is stuck out into the air of your room. He looks so peaceful. Almost as if he knows you're staring, his deep voice startles you out of your thoughts, "enjoying the view?" He raises his head towards you and gives a cheeky smile.

Suddenly unable to speak you roll over to face away from him and instead you stare at the pictures on your wall. Art of all sorts is collaged, gifts from friends, works of your own, and store bought pieces all work together perfectly to paint the picture of who you are. Right at the center is your favorite. Taking a deep breath you roll back onto your back, "maybe, maybe not. It's not everyday that there is a stranger in my bed, can you blame me?" You make eye contact, his green eyes bore into yours.

"Guess not," he reaches a hand onto your shoulder, "hey are you alright after last night? You seemed quite shaken up, were you able to sleep?" Concern flashes across his stunning green eyes.

"Yeah I'm alright, I mean I slept fine. Thank you for helping me out, how did you know what to do?" Your gaze travels to the hand on your shoulder.

"Just something I've picked up here or there," he retracts his hand and swipes it over his face to help him wake up.

"Well at least you didn't hog the blankets," you smile as you sweep off the covers and stand up to stretch. Reaching your arms over your head your tank top reveals a sliver of skin above your shorts. Dean doesn't even try to look away.

"I'll go check on Sam, and start on some breakfast if you'd like, you can just stay here a while longer," you hear Dean flop down on your bed in response, you knew he wouldn't pass up some more sleep. You had the sneaking suspicion he needed it.

Opening your bedroom door you walk out into your living room, the warm space shows no trace of the bloody events from the prior night. Rounding the sofa you see Sam is still asleep. Softly you reach out and brush his bangs off of his forehead, he mumbles in his sleep.

"Hey Sam, you're forehead is pretty warm. I think you may have a fever," he doesn't open his eyes. You shake his shoulders, "Sam it's time to wake up," he eyes pop open and his hands grab at your wrists. You're both startled.

"Oh it's just you, y/n, good morning," he breathes out and lets go of your hands.

"Yes, just me, nothing to worry about. Good morning to you too," you walk to the kitchen and dampen a wash cloth. Wringing it out before you return to Sam's side and place it on his forehead, Sam groans.

"Yeah, I'd say you have a fever. Maybe your wound got infected. I should check it out," Sam stays quiet.

You pull back the blanket from his lower half. Grabbing your kit once again from the closet you put it on your coffee table. Slipping on a new pair of gloves you peel back the gauze and tape on Sam's inner right thigh. His wound is red and looks angry, but there are not other signs of infection. His body is fighting it off pretty well.

"It doesn't look to be in too bad of shape," your eyes flick up to Sam who is staring at you. He clears his throat, "that's good then, you did a great job stitching me back together." He smiles at you.

Blushing you return your gaze to his thigh. You turn to your kit and pull out some gel that will help fight further infection, you spread on a thin layer from end to end of your stitches and then add new gauze and tape to his wound. Throwing away your gloves and the open packages you once again put your kit away.

"Would you want some breakfast? I make a mean omelet." You ask Sam, "yes please that'd be great," on cue your stomach growls. Blushing you get started on making the food.

Just when you're finished Dean enters the kitchen, "something smells great," you smile and plate his portion. Then you plate Sam's and bring it out to him on the couch with another big class of water and a Tylenol.

"Thanks, y/n," you give Sam a smile and help prop him into a sitting position with pillows. You return to the kitchen.

"So, about last night," you start as you sit down with your own breakfast in front of you, "there aren't any deer around these parts, I mean I know this isn't the city but also there have never been native deer inhabiting this area, and on top of that, they sure as hell don't have claws. So I'm going to ask you once more, what happened to you two last night?" You take a bite of your food.

"Hunting accident, like I said," Dean takes another bite of his own. "Hunting what exactly?"

"You wouldn't believe me," you roll your eyes. "Try me."

"Werewolves," Dean huffs out, "we were jumped by some werewolves, we thought there was only one, easy peasy, but turns out there were three and they got the upper hand, I'm surprised we got out as clean as we did," Dean tried to gage your reaction.

You actually already knew that the supernatural existed in this world and that they weren't just works of fiction. All you do is nod and take another bite, "thanks for being honest with me." Dean's mouth opens in surprise.

"Aren't you gonna, I don't know, freak out?" 

"Gosh no, I'm not as innocent as I look. I do know a thing or two about a thing or two," you roll your eyes again.

The two of you finish the rest of your food in silence, after you finish you go out to check on Sam who ended up only eating half of his before falling back asleep. You smile as you grab his dishes.

Returning to the kitchen you put all of the dishes into the sink, "I wash, you dry?" You ask Dean. He nods and comes to stand beside you at the sink. His body radiates heat and you can feel your hips almost touching. The process flows through with a comfortable silence, "we make a good team," you remark when Dean finishes drying the last dish. The smile he gives you makes you want to melt right there.

Suddenly Sam calls for Dean from the other room, both of you rush to the living room.

"Are you okay?" "What is it Sammy?" The both of you talk at the same time, Sam smiles a little embarrassed. "I uh, just need Dean to help me up so I can use the bathroom."

Both you and Dean deflate, phew, you thought something was wrong.

Dean helps Sam up from the couch and they walk back through your room to the bathroom. You take this time to clean up the living room and fix up the couch Sam was on to make it extra comfy for when he gets back. You switch the blankets out for a lighter one and put the other one in your laundry hamper in your room. You then start to tidy your bedroom. You make the bed and fluff the pillows. With a huff of breath from effort you smile, your place is your vision come true. This space makes you feel comfortable and cozy with the perfect flair of style. Going to your dresser you pick out a outfit for the day, and quickly change in your other bathroom down the hall. Feeling fresh for the day you return to your room, thinking it's been a long time for the two to be in the bathroom you place your ear on the door, muffled voices seem to be arguing.

"We can't stay here, Dean its to dangerous for her,"

"Well we can't leave just yet, you're really hurt and it'll take forever for your leg to heal on the road," Dean's voice boomed. Before you could react the door opened inward and you staggard forward into Dean's chest. He was also supporting most of Sam's weight.

"Sorry for listening in, I couldn't help myself," you blush red. Sam smiles and holds on to the door frame while Dean steadied you.

"No worries sweetheart," Dean replied as he helped Sam back through your room and back to the couch.

"Listen guys, about what you were saying, you can stay as long as you need, barely anyone comes down here. I doubt they'd be able to find you guys, let alone me." You clasp your hands together, "and I don't mind the company." You finish.

The brothers sit down on your couch and look up at you. Nervously you tuck your hair behind your ear.

"We aren't in a rush to leave, but you should know that you may be in danger just by knowing about us," Sam starts.

"Right, the hunting the things that go bump in the night, I kinda got that," you nod up and down. 

"We just want you to know what you're getting into is all," Dean's eyes meet yours.

"Thanks for the heads up. I hope you guys don't mind but I have to get some work done today, but just let me know if you need anything," the boys nod and you turn down the hall to your home office. 

Hours go by quickly, as if they are minutes. You love your job so yes it is hard work but you wouldn't change it for the world. There's a knock on your office door, "come in," you spin away from your computer to face the door. Dean walks in, "just wanted to check in on you, it's been a while." You nod.

"Yeah, well I mean I love this stuff and I sometimes can get caught up in it," Dean walks closer, "I get like that when I'm fixing up my car, so I understand, what are you working on?" Dean stands beside your chair, then he leans down to look at your monitor as you swivel around to show him. You click around the screen and explain what you're doing. Dean nods along giving the occasional oh cool or asking of a question.

When you finish your virtual tour you turn to face Dean because you can sense he's looking at you, "what?" You ask.

In response Dean leans in and kissing you softly on the lips. You melt, kissing back softly. 


End file.
